Page 30 of Everything In Between

TWENTY-FOUR

hayes

“Everyone decent in here?” a male voice echoes throughout Jersey’s condo.

She groans and rolls out of bed, grabbing her robe off the hanger and flinging it on before leaving the bedroom. “There’s Roman. I thought he was joking when he said he’d bring us breakfast this morning.” She shakes her head. “Guess not.”

I chuckle and pull on my sweatpants and a shirt before following her out of the bedroom.

I flew in late last night, desperately counting down the minutes until I got to hold her in my arms again.

We barely let each other go throughout the late nighttime hours—the perfect way to start a bye week, if you ask me.

Jersey has her twin in a tight hug and he sways her back and forth, though he releases her when he sees me, wrapping his arm around her neck. “Sorry to interrupt.”

I hold up my hands. “No problem here.” My eyes fall on the box of bagels he’s brought. “Thanks for breakfast.” I help myself to an everything bagel and slather on a heaping dose of plain cream cheese.

“I wanted to meet you face-to-face and see my little sis before I leave,” Roman says, and Jersey rolls her eyes. “Figured meeting you this morning would be my only shot for a while.”

“I’m sure your schedule is about to be super hectic,” I say before taking a bite of the bagel.

Roman nods. “It is. I’ll be back in a few months, though, and we’ll be back to our regularly scheduled shenanigans. Hopefully, by then you’ll have another Super Bowl ring, and Jersey will have a fully recorded album.”

“Ugh, one can only hope,” Jersey says, shooting me a wink as she puts strawberry spread all over her chocolate chip bagel.

“That’s for damn sure,” I agree.

“I’ll get out of your hair. Just wanted to stop by.

You’re in good hands, Jersey,” Roman says.

When he releases her, he reaches out and gives me a firm handshake.

“It was good to meet you, man. You take care of her, okay? I don’t want to have to fight you because I’ll probably lose.

” He sizes me up. He’s a few inches shorter than me and not nearly as broad.

“Hopefully, it will never come to that,” I reply with a chuckle.

“I have a feeling it won’t.”

Jersey’s eyes glisten as she looks at her brother. That one little comment seems to mean the world to her. Roman gives his sister one last hug and then heads out the door, leaving the two of us to eat our bagels and continue getting ready.

A few hours later, Jersey and I sit side-by-side in a conference room at Silver Shadows.

Jersey has an iPad in front of her and her worn-down notebook open to a clean page.

She’s been humming a few bars over and over to herself, scribbling some words down, toying with them, and then usually scratching them out to start over again.

At her request, we got here early, before her scheduled time in the recording studio. She’s got another half-hour before she’s due to start.

“What’s it like to record an album?” I ask her.

She looks up at me with dazed eyes for a second before she focuses back on the present. “What do you mean?”

I shrug a shoulder. “I’m just wondering if it’s like in the movies or TV or anything.”

Her lips quirk. “I suppose a little bit. I record vocals either with or without a backing track, and then we play it back to make sure it came out how we want it to. Rinse and repeat.” She runs her tongue over her bottom lip, thoughtfully. “Do you want to come in and watch?”

I raise my brows. “Can I?”

Her brown eyes take on a defiant edge to them. “I mean, technically, no, but I like the idea of you being in there with me.”

Leaning toward her, I cup my hand at the nape of her neck and pull her into me for a kiss. I can’t wait to watch her creative process unfold and I can’t wait to spend more one-on-one time with her after the fact. She whimpers as I kiss her, making a dissatisfied sound when I break away.

“Let’s go out tonight,” I suggest, twirling a strand of Jersey’s hair around my finger.

Surprise fills her. “Out?”

“Yeah, like out on a date. A real one.” I can’t fight the grin off my face. Already, I love the idea of walking around downtown with her on my arm, me getting to show her off to the whole world.

“In . . . public?” she squeaks.

Now I arch a brow at her. “Yeah?”

She swallows thickly and glances back down at her notebook. “I’m not sure.”

“Why? I’ll be right next to you the whole time.” I lean forward and nuzzle behind her ear with my nose, curious why this side of her is making an appearance today. “I would never let anything happen to you. Besides, everyone knows we’ve been seeing each other. It’s no secret.”

She turns thoughtful. “Corey never wanted to go out. Mostly I think it was because my presence would garner more attention than his, and he hated feeling like he always came in second to me.”

I give her a heady look. “I don’t mind coming in second to you. Not now, not ever.”

Her lips turn up in the corners. “He always felt the need to point out that they only liked me because of the music Callum picked out for me. That I wouldn’t be where I am if I had used my own songs.”

“Somehow, I can’t see that being the case. I’m sure your music would garner just as much, if not more, love and accolades.”

“I don’t know. Maybe he’s right.” She runs her finger over some words she’s written in her notebook, a forlorn expression now on her beautiful features.

“Why would you say that?”

She chuckles. “Because it’s true? I’ll never be the Christina, or the Taylor, or even the Britney.”

“What are you talking about? You already are. Have you not been paying attention to the sold out stadiums or the platinum albums? You’re America’s sweetheart,” I argue.

“What if I don’t want to be that anymore?” Her voice is small, as if she’s afraid to say it out loud. Her eyes hold a sense of guardedness as she watches me, waiting for my reaction.

I fall silent as her quiet admission lays heavy between us, giving it the space it needs. Carefully, I ask, “Then what do you want to be?”

“I want to be me. I want to write and sing the songs that I want. And those may be heavier and edgier than what people know me for. I just don’t know how that will go over.

I’ve probably written five albums worth of my own songs—though none of them have ever gotten recognition, nor will they if Callum has anything to do with it. ”

“Let me hear one.”

She pauses, her eyes going wide with a sense of alarm. “What?”

“I want to hear one. Play for me.” My lips twitch into a smile thinking about getting to hear my own personal Jersey concert. I’ve been aching to hear her velvety voice again. And to have her sing for me in an intimate setting? I might spontaneously combust.

She studies my face, and for a moment I think she’s considering it, but then her shoulders fall. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” I ask her, disappointment settling in my chest.

“I’ll play you one when it’s just the two of us sometime.

Away from here.” She nibbles on her lower lip and I wonder what she’s not telling me.

Her gaze darts to the door again and then falls back on me.

“There’re a lot of people in this city who only see me as a pawn, and they only give me so much freedom.

I’ve tried to convince them to let me try with my own words and they’ve laughed in my face.

I’m not about to try again. At least not yet. I have to protect that part of me.”

I ponder her words, hating that she questions if she has any power when she should have it all. This label should be falling at her feet, begging for her to give them the time of day, but here she is, feeling like a prisoner in her own gold-plated life.

I hate that for her, and I resolve to contribute in whatever way I can to give her back the power of her voice.

“Go out with me tonight,” I suggest again. “The only way for you to be the version of yourself that you want to be is to do it. You have to be willing to step into the light, make yourself uncomfortable, and reach for that power that you so desperately want. You’ve gotta take it yourself.”

Her eyes shine as she listens intently to what I’m telling her. “What if I can’t?”

“Then I’ll be right behind you, showing you that you can.”